


I Am Made of Memories

by InsightfulInsomniac



Series: dads!Klaine (aka the Adventures of the Anderson-Hummels and Co.) [38]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, M/M, both Kurt’s mother and Finn, but it’s mostly happy, dads!Klaine, dating!klaine, engaged!klaine, husbands!klaine, kind of, lots of feels, married!klaine, outside looking in fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsightfulInsomniac/pseuds/InsightfulInsomniac
Summary: There’s a chair that’s sat in the corner of the Hummel-Hudson living room for over thirty years. Burt’s owned the chair for over forty-five years. When Burt and Carole entertain the idea of getting a new furniture set, Burt decides he can’t let go of it.For over forty-five years, this specific chair has been the subject of enough memories to make it more vibrant than a photo album. And that’s why Burt’s keeping it.A survey over time of these memories. Mostly fluff with a few canonical bits of angst scattered throughout.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Burt Hummel/Kurt's Mother, Carole Hudson-Hummel/Burt Hummel
Series: dads!Klaine (aka the Adventures of the Anderson-Hummels and Co.) [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1364230
Comments: 20
Kudos: 76





	I Am Made of Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This fic... it honestly took ahold of me and wrote itself more than any other fic has in awhile. You all know I adore writing Burt in my fics, and for some reason, this idea popped into my head.
> 
> My grandparents have a chair similar to the one Burt’s talking about in the fic, and it was always the coveted chair when my dad’s side of the family would all gather together. That definitely played a part in the idea behind this fic!
> 
> Tw for the canonical deaths of Kurt’s mom (Elizabeth) and Finn. Both are only briefly mentioned/reflected upon, but they’re definitely there.
> 
> The title is a quote from the book “The Song of Achilles.” It’s an amazing read, and I’d highly recommend it for any Greek mythology/sexuality studies nerds. It’s basically an expansion story based on Madeline Miller (the author’s) interpretation of the Iliad and Achilles and Patroclus’s relationship.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the fic!!

“Honey, have you ever thought about getting a new furniture set for the living room?” Carole asks over dinner one night, and Burt shrugs.

“Not really. What’s wrong with the one we have?”

“Honey, we’ve had those couches since we moved in,” she replies. “They’ve got thirty years of wear and tear written all over them. I was thinking that it might be time to replace them.”

“Okay,” Burt smiles across the table at his wife, nodding. “You have a few sets in mind already, don’t you?”

Carole grins, standing to cross to his side, phone in hand. “Maybe a few. I’d still want to run our final choices through Kurt, of course, but I have some saved.”

“Lay ‘em on me,” Burt remarks, and Carole begins swiping through the saved tabs on her phone. 

“See, this one’s really similar to what we have — very neutral, it’ll match the wood end tables we have,” she explains. “And it comes with two chairs, so we could keep a similar layout to what we have now.”

“Wait,” Burt stops her for a moment with a gentle hand on her arm. “You were planning to get rid of the chairs, too?”

“Well, yeah,” Carole answers carefully. “Is that okay? I wouldn’t do anything without running it by you first.”

“I just —“ Burt sighs. “It’s stupid, I know, but that... that damn chair. It has so many memories.”

**_About 46 Years Earlier_ **

“Babe, oh my god, look at that one!” Elizabeth gasps, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of a fluffy oversized chair. Burt watches in fond amusement as she drops into the chair with a careful hand on her stomach, a huge grin stretched across her face as she makes a show of settling in.

“Ahh,” she sighs, her bright eyes sparkling in that way he can never resist. “Mama’s happy. Baby boy is too. We could sleep here, eat here, play here...”

Burt chuckles. “Alright, alright, I get it. You wanted a comfortable chair to nurse in; do you think this is the one?”

She pats the surprisingly large space beside her. “Join us and tell me you don’t think it’s perfect.”

Obligingly, Burt sits next to her, wrapping an arm instinctively around her shoulders as they shift around to get situated. Elizabeth rests her head in the crook of his shoulder, rubbing his knee gently.

“Think of us in a few months, Burt,” she says softly. “Just like this, but with Kurt asleep on your chest as we watch a movie. Or with him bouncing on my knee while you make silly faces at him to get him to laugh.”

Burt doesn’t even bother to check the price tag first. He has a hunch that it’s probably out of their price range as a young couple, but however many overtime hours he’ll have to work to make up for it, it’ll be worth it.

“You’re right. This is the one.”

**_Five Years Later // Kurt: Age 5_ **

“Hey, buddy, what happened?” Burt drops his keys into the dish by the door, hearing Kurt’s sniffly cries echo from the living room.

Elizabeth is kneeling in front of him as he sits on the very edge of the oversized chair, tears streaming down his red cheeks as he glances up to see his dad, having just come home from work.

“Kurt had a bit of a fall in the driveway today,” Lizzie explains, setting down the wet washcloth she was using to gently clean at the scrapes on Kurt’s knee. “We were out coloring, and he got really excited to show me his drawing and took a tumble.”

“Did you see my garden, Daddy?” Kurt asks, hiccuping as his sobs subside. “I drew lots of flowers.”

“I did see them,” he nods, walking over to ruffle Kurt’s hair fondly. “I really liked them, Kurt. Did you draw the sun too?”

He nods, wiping at his eyes, a small smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. “I did. Mommy drew the rainbow and butterflies!”

Lizzie smooths over the bandaid once more, pressing a kiss overtop of it. “All done, sweetie. You were so brave! I’m so proud of you.”

Kurt giggles softly as his mom kisses both of his cheeks, giving him a tight hug before she stands and gives Burt a quick kiss as well. “How was work?”

He smiles. “Same old, same old. I missed you guys.”

“Aw, we missed you too,” she grins, watching as Kurt’s already off the chair and running across the room to grab the next toy he’s interested in.

**_Three Years Later // Kurt: Age 8_ **

“The barn was very large. It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure,” Kurt reads aloud, holding _Charlotte’s Web_ open wide enough for both him and his mom to see as they’re cuddled together on the oversized chair, buried under a few blankets. “It smelled of the persp...perspir...”

“Perspiration,” Elizabeth assists, nodding, and Kurt immediately picks up again. 

“... _perspiration_ of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell as though nothing bad could happen ever again in the world.”

Burt realizes that he’s staring when Lizzie’s eyes find his from across the room, a soft smile lighting up her tired face. Even though her body is losing its vitality every day, that smile still reaches her eyes, and Kurt always puts it there.

The doctors warned them that there’s not much time left. Lizzie insisted that she won’t live out the rest of her life in a hospital, so despite her near-constant bed rest, she can be at home with the two most important people to her.

Kurt knows his mom is sick. Burt keeps urging him to spend as much time as he can with her, and he and Lizzie did have a conversation with him in the most appropriate way you can talk about death with an eight-year-old. Now, they’re just trying to make the most of the time they all have left together.

Lizzie gets tired really easily now, even if she doesn’t like to admit it. When she starts to doze off as Kurt’s reading to her, he merely closes the book and curls up next to her, pulling the blankets higher around them.

Burt has to hide his teary smile behind the paper.

**_Eight years later // Kurt: Age 16_ **

“Kurt, you want any popcorn?” Finn calls, strolling into the living room, the football game already playing on the TV. Kurt sighs, glancing up from his French textbook.

“Yes, please. But only if you didn’t already drown it in salt.”

“I didn’t put that much on,” Finn shrugs, and without a second thought, practically launches himself onto the big chair where Kurt is sitting, curled up against the left arm.

“Oh my god, Finn! What are you doing?” Kurt exclaims, grabbing his French homework so it doesn’t get crushed underneath his stepbrother. “There are so many other places to sit!”

Finn just grins, holding out the large bowl of popcorn. “How can we share if I’m all the way over there?”

Kurt gives him an icy glare when he doesn’t move, but eventually gives in and takes a handful. “You’re moving as soon as this bowl is empty. I can’t handle the lack of personal space for too long.”

Finn barely looks back at him, already focused on the game in front of him. “You’ve got it, dude.”

A moment later, Kurt’s phone dings, and he picks it up as a secretive smile stretches across his face. Burt watches as Finn turns his attention back to Kurt, leaning close to try and see his phone.

“Is that from Blaine?”

“Oh my god, _Finn_!” Kurt slaps his arm. “My texts are none of your business!”

Finn pats him on the shoulder. “I get it, man. Rachel always smiles like that when I text her.”

“Shut. Up,” Kurt hisses, his cheeks bright red.

Burt thinks back to the way Kurt beamed and blushed all night when Blaine tagged along to McKinley’s football game. Even though he knows they’re not together (yet), it’s no secret that Kurt’s pretty smitten with the kid.

Finn shrugs again, keeping the popcorn bowl between them on the chair, but stays silent about the matter.

**_One year later // Kurt: Age 17_ **

“It’s still going to be such a long shot for this to work out,” Burt remarks, fishing around in his pocket for his keys. “I don’t know, Carole.”

“Hey,” Carole levels a look at her husband. “You’re putting all this effort into canvassing and campaigning because you truly care about the issues at hand. Your opponents probably can’t say the same.”

Burt sighs, unlocking the front door. “I know. You’re right, as usual. I just don’t know how the hell we’re going to get the win through write-ins.”

“You’re an attractive candidate to the everyday person,” Carole encourages, shutting the door behind them as they walk inside. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll all work out.”

“I sure hope so. I need to go sit, my feet are killing me after all of that —“

Burt freezes in the entryway to the living room as his son frantically launches himself off of his boyfriend’s lap, scooting as far away from him as he can on the oversized chair.

Kurt’s mouth is opening and closing repeatedly, as if he can’t find the words he wants to say to remedy the situation. Blaine, on the other hand, is flushed just as bright red, his eyes focused intensely on the floor.

Burt clears his throat. “Hi, Kurt. Blaine.”

“Hey, Dad,” Kurt manages, and Blaine squeaks out a mortified “Hi, Burt.”

“I’m going to go upstairs and change, but I’ll be down in a few minutes,” he says pointedly, and both boys nod. “Do you have a curfew for tonight, Blaine?”

“Yes, sir. Eleven o’clock.”

Burt nods. “Okay. Kurt, I have a speech I’d like you to look over sometime, if you’re able.”

“No problem, Dad,” Kurt replies shortly, and Burt decides to finally take mercy on them.

Carole peeks around the corner quickly. “Sorry, hun. I’ll try to remember to text you when we’re on our way home next time, okay?”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Kurt says earnestly, and she gives him a wink before following Burt upstairs.

**_Nearly 2 Years Later // Kurt: Almost Age 19_ **

The world is gray.

The house feels empty and cold.

Life feels like it’s stopped indefinitely.

Burt’s been here before. 

Death never fails to slice deep into your core, especially when the loss encompasses a world of potential that is now an impossibility. Love, light, and a future dissipate so fast that it gives you a sick kind of whiplash, and you feel its aftershocks for eternities.

When Burt and Carole first started dating, there was the inevitable bond over tragically losing a spouse — the shared experience that changes a young person, and especially a young parent, so deeply.

But watching Carole lose her son — even though he had long since considered Finn his son as well — it’s a pain that he can’t even imagine. A world without Finn already aches so deeply, and the wound is very, _very_ fresh. Burt can’t imagine a world without Kurt.

Kurt, of course, flew in for the funeral — he stayed in New York with Rachel when they got the news initially, because despite needing desperately to grieve himself, he was selflessly determined to be her rock.

It’s been awhile since Kurt’s been home. Because of his tight college student budget, family and friends usually fly out to New York to visit, rather than the other way around. Burt knows Blaine’s flown out more than a few times.

And even though he should feel a little more whole now that Kurt’s home again, it almost makes Finn’s missed presence more noticeable. It’s exhausting just being in the house, even when they are there together.

The few days that Kurt is home are exhausting for everyone, understandably. Burt knows Carole hasn’t been sleeping, and he hasn’t been either. He can’t imagine anyone close to Finn could be getting any rest at a time like this.

It’s late in the afternoon, probably around the time where they should start trying to think about managing to eat something, when Burt heads downstairs to get a glass of water for Carole. As he passes by the living room, his chest clenches at the sight in front of him.

On the oversized chair in the corner of the room, Kurt has his arms wrapped around Blaine, who’s clinging to him tightly. Blaine’s buried his face in Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt’s head is resting on top of his as they sleep.

Ever since Kurt arrived in Lima, Blaine’s stayed in the Hummel-Hudson house to no questions. Burt’s endlessly grateful that they can be there for each other, and he feels a little bit more at peace knowing that neither of them have to grieve alone.

None of them do. They all have each other.

**_1.5 Years Later // Kurt: Age 20_ **

“Ooh, this place has an option for a three-month lease,” Kurt points out, and Blaine leans into his side to see the laptop screen as they sit together on the chair, legs tangled together. “And it’s in our price range.”

“Oh thank god, washer and dryer in unit,” Blaine groans. “Is it too good to be true?”

Kurt chuckles. “Hopefully they’re not cleverly forgetting to mention a cockroach infestation or something. The pictures do look really nice.”

“Did you boys find a winner?” Burt asks, and the two newlyweds glance up at him. 

“It’s pretty good,” Blaine admits. “And close to McKinley.”

“I mean, it’s not like we have a ton of options,” Kurt comments. “Signing a short-term lease on such short notice to an apartment in our price range is not the easiest plan to start with.”

“Well, if all else fails, you can always stay here until you go back to New York.”

“Thanks, Burt,” Blaine smiles, but Kurt just rubs his arm sympathetically.

“Honey, you don’t have to be so polite anymore. They can’t get rid of you,” Kurt teases. “We do appreciate your generosity, Dad, but we really, _really_ need a place of our own when we come back from our honeymoon.”

Burt laughs. “I get it, kid. No offense taken. If you need us to help with any part of the search process, let us know.”

**_6 Years Later // Kurt: Age 26_ **

“Peekaboo!” Blaine pulls Tracy’s new Christmas-themed baby blanket away from his face, beaming as his daughter giggles uncontrollably from where she’s sitting on Kurt’s lap. “Peekaboo!”

“Can Nana get a turn?” Carole asks, sitting down next to Blaine on the floor, and he happily gives her an end of the blanket so they can pull it up and down in tandem. “Peekaboo!”

Burt laughs along with the other adults as Tracy giggles loudly, falling back against Kurt’s chest with the force of her laughter. “Your mom and I used to play this game with you sitting right there, Kurt. Your mom picked out that chair right before you were born.”

Kurt smiles brightly across the room at his dad. “Kind of come full circle, huh?”

Burt nods, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. “It sure has.”

As Blaine and Carole continue to delight his first granddaughter, perched happily on his son’s lap, Burt pulls out his phone and swipes open the camera, taking a video. It’s their first Christmas as parents and grandparents, and he never wants to forget the overwhelming warmth and love of the moment.

**_10 Years Later // Kurt: Age 36_ **

“Audrey! Look at the camera!” Kurt calls, stepping back from the chair where all four kids are piled onto, both he and Blaine desperately making silly faces behind Burt and Carole, trying to maintain their kids’ attention.

Despite not being particularly religious in any way, every Easter, Kurt and Blaine travel back to Lima with their kids for a family meal and an egg hunt for the kids — and the annual attempt for Burt and Carole to take a new picture of all their grandkids together at their house. Usually, they would do it outside, but the rain put a wrench in their plans for this year.

“Finn, don’t pull your brother’s hair,” Blaine admonishes. “Look here! Look at Papa!”

“Daddy, is the picture taken yet?” Tracy asks, fidgeting. “Please hurry up!”

“Just hold on a little longer, sweetie,” Carole says, looking over Burt’s shoulder as he positions the camera. “Just a few more!”

“How many should I take?” Burt asks, snapping away. “I only ever had to do this with one kid — it’s near impossible for all four to be looking and smiling at the same time!”

Blaine starts doing some sort of robot dance, which gets the kids to laugh in their direction. Burt presses the camera button rapidly, taking as many as he possibly can.

“That should be good enough, Dad,” Kurt comments. “They’ll be cute no matter what.”

And just like that, the four kids are already climbing off the chair, off to bigger and better things.

  
**_10 Years Later // Kurt: Age 46_ **

“Oh, god, _ow_ — Dalton — your elbow is literally breaking my ribs —“ Tracy pulls her arm free of the pile of her siblings, shifting away as much as she can with all three of her siblings piled onto the oversized chair with her.

“Scoot over, here, _move_ —“ Audrey squeezes in between her two brothers, letting Finn practically sit in her lap. 

“Why can’t you just choose who gets the chair?” Blaine asks his kids from his spot with Kurt on the couch across the room. “You all look ridiculous.”

“C’mon, you’re all too old to fit there together,” Burt laughs, watching amusedly as his grandkids entangle themselves on what they claim to be their collective favorite chair. 

“The challenge only makes us want to try harder, Gramps!” Dalton quips, burrowing in between Tracy and Audrey.

“They are your children,” Carole points accusingly at the two husbands. “If anyone ever had any doubts, just show them this.”

Kurt snorts. “No one pushes the Hummels around. Or the Anderson-Hummels.”

“Damn right!” Audrey shouts from the pile, and Burt stifles a laugh.

“Language,” Blaine chastises half-heartedly, more out of principle than anything else.

Audrey rolls her eyes with a knowing grin, wrapping her arms around Finn’s shoulders. “Look, we’re all comfy here, right? This works. No personal space bubbles in this family.”

“Unfortunately,” Tracy mutters, but not without a smile.

Burt shakes his head. “Good luck getting up from there without someone getting clocked upside the head.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Finn replies decidedly.

**_Back to present day, less than 1 year later_ **

Carole rubs Burt’s back affectionately. “It’s okay, honey. We won’t get rid of the chair. I think the kids would never forgive us anyway.”

Burt chuckles. “You’re not wrong. Are you sure, though? I don’t want to mess up your vision.”

“I’m positive. It’ll just be a design piece — we’ll find a set that matches with it,” Carole pecks him on the cheek sweetly. “I know that chair’s important to you. That makes it important to me.”

“I love you so much,” Burt replies, and Carole smiles.

“I love you too. Now, which set do you think Kurt would approve of the most? I think he’d like this one, even though it’s more my style than his.”

Later that night, when he’s retired to his favorite chair opposite the old oversized one, Burt can’t help but take a moment to look at it. It’s fading, the upholstery is fraying at the seams in a few places, and it’s definitely dated in terms of style. 

But when he looks at it, it’s almost as vibrant as a photo album.

**Author's Note:**

> Cue the emotions. I never want to think about Burt and Carole getting old... tears. They’re practically eternal in my book.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this fic! Thank you so, so, so much for all your comments and kudos. I’ve said it many times but I’ll say it again — writing fics has literally kept me sane during quarantine, and your response to each and every one of them has been continued encouragement!
> 
> Thank you all! Stay safe ❤️
> 
> Find me on Instagram: @insightful.insomniac
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @zigxzag-klaine


End file.
